


Young Blood

by Sarcastic_Metaphor



Series: Red-Eyed Deadeye [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Not Beta Read, Prequel, Talon - Freeform, Torture, Vampire AU, Vampire!McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-08-31 20:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8591776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcastic_Metaphor/pseuds/Sarcastic_Metaphor
Summary: A prequel to Red-Eyed Deadeye about how Jesse first became a vampire at the hands of Talon, and his unsteady recovery afterwards.(Not necessary to read Red-Eyed Deadeye first.)





	1. Talon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the very first part of this first chapter has any direct link to Red-Eyed Deadeye, and the rest of the story will be about Jesse’s days in Blackwatch. (Warning: This story is unbated.)

****Jesse strangely didn’t find it all that important, but Hanzo had admitted that his past had peaked his interest every now and again. Tonight, he had finally convinced Jesse to tell him everything. He was going to learn how he came to be what he was.

Hanzo made himself comfortable as he listened to the smooth, rich drawl of Jesse’s voice.

-+-+-+-

McCree never felt like he had to hide his past, but sharing it with Hanzo was something else entirely. McCree was about to admit every fault and fear he had about the cruel origins of his red eyes and pointed fangs, but felt fully confident that he could trust Hanzo with everything. So he started his tale with as much detail as he could remember from those foggy days long ago.

“Well, it got you an’ me to get together, but back when I was first turned, I thought nothin’ good could come of it. Ya see I got myself into a lotta trouble one day and paid consequences I’d never thought possible…”

-+-+-+-

Jesse couldn’t believe his eyes. He stared at the room; it was barely big enough for the twin sized bed, desk, dresser, and closet. He took slow, careful steps into the room and approached the bed. It already had bedsheets and a pillow, and nothing stained or previously used. No holes or frayed edges either. The dresser was made of sturdy metal, no chips in the paint or obscenities carved into the surface, and the desk was in similar condition.

The man behind him cleared his throat impatiently, “What, this isn’t up to your standard of living in Deadlock?”

Jesse turned and stared wide-eyed at the man. He was tall with intimidatingly dark eyes and a seriously broody demeanor. He looked like the guy you averted your eyes from out of both fear and respect, but in that moment, Jesse wanted to throw his arms around the man and hug him.

Jesse tried to keep his voice even. “No, I just… is this really all mine?”

The Commander of Blackwatch raised an eyebrow at him.

“The room is yours, the furniture in it is Blackwatch property, so you better not break anything.”

Jesse couldn’t believe it. He collapsed on the edge of the bed and pressed his hands to his face. There was a wetness growing in the corners of his eyes when the realization hit him. This was his own room that he got to live and sleep in. He didn’t have one of those since he was a little kid, and his time in Deadlock was spent curled up wherever there was spare space, usually among supply crates or truck beds.

“Kid, you okay?”

Jesse nodded. “I just- this is amazing. I really get to stay here?”

The Commander seemed taken aback by Jesse’s response. He scratched the back of his neck almost hesitantly and looked away.

“Yeah, you really do. Just don’t make a mess of things, you hear me?”

Jesse looked up, ignoring the slight blur in the corners of his eyes, and gave his new Commander a mock salute. He couldn’t help but smile.

Blackwatch might’ve been some dastardly little secret hidden in the shadows of Overwatch, but this was the best thing that had ever happened to Jesse. When the Commander left, he let himself sprawl out over _his_ bed. It wasn’t a sleeping bag, or a couple of crates with a blanket spread out over them. It wasn’t hiding away from the other gang members to stay out of trouble.

This was _his_ room and _his_ bed, and the best second-chance someone could have ever given him. Jesse rolled over on _his_ bed. Things were going to get better, he felt it.

-+-+-+-

For two and a half years, Jesse felt like he was living the life. His marksmanship skill grew to the point where he was pretty sure he could nail a bird in the eye mid-flight  at night. Gabe couldn’t grill his ass about catching up with the other agents anymore.

When he was eighteen he started babysitting Ana’s twelve year-old, Fareeha, while she went out on missions. Jesse wasn't afraid to admit it; that girl was a real doll. She loved piggy-back rides, like Jesse when he was a little kid. And Fareeha loved his _tres leches_ cake too, even though he could never make it quiet like his mamaࠥ. On halloween, he told her the legend of _el silbon_ , the man who whistled in the distance, and then tried to scare her by hiding outside her room and whistling. Needless to say, he didn’t really blame her when she tried to kick him after that.

When Jesse turned nineteen, Talon was just beginning to become an issue that they couldn’t ignore. Some guy from Overwatch was put in charge of fighting the terrorist organisation, but it was inevitable that Blackwatch would cross their path.

Like now, for instance. Jesse was being sent with a squad of Blackwatch agents to bust up a major drug cartel in South America. How unsurprising it was to find Talon there trying to deal with the cartel bosses.

The last thing Jesse remembered was Gabe ordering a retreat. He thought that he must’ve misheard, because the Commander of Blackwatch was so much better at making new tactics on the fly than _retreating._ Jesse took cover behind a stack of crates and raised a hand to his comm link. He wanted to ask for clarification, because Talon didn’t seem like it had the chops to push them back. Then there was an ear-splitting screech that made Jesse’s head feel like it was going to explode. He dropped his gun and couldn't even hear it clatter to the cement floor. He couldn’t see or _think_ eitherand before Jesse knew it, he was out cold.

The next thing he knew, Jesse was sitting in a pitch-black cell; basically locked inside a box. His limbs were heavy and his hands were tied too tightly behind his back. Jesse strained to lift his head just a few centimeters off the floor. There was a ringing in his ears, but he could swear he heard someone beyond the walls of his prison screaming. It sounded like Johnson, one of the Blackwatch agents Jesse had been teamed with.

Before he could even think to investigate the sound, Jesse’s head fell to the floor and unconsciousness took hold of him again.

 


	2. Experiments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW this chapter got a lot darker than I thought it would. Warnings for Guilty!Gabe and scenes of torture/self-mutilation.

Gabe stared at the holograms in front of him. The profiles of his five missing Blackwatch agents seemed to mock him in his own office.

After Talon got the jump on them in Argentina, an entire team had went missing; Addison, Bell, Hatayama, Johnson, and _McCree._ They weren’t dead, because Gabe had organized reinforcements and stormed the place mere hours after their first assault failed. There were no signs that the cartel or Talon had disposed of any bodies, so where were they?

-+-+-+-

Jesse had awoken to cruel hands roughly throwing him from his dark little box and into a proper cell with a ragged mattress for a bed, and a hole in the floor for him to shit in. Across from him was another cell with Hatayama in it.

The others were probably there too, but Jesse couldn’t speak with his tongue feeling like stone. He hoped reinforcements would rescue them soon, but all he could do at the moment was to close his eyes and surrender to the darkness again.

But the next time he opened them, all Jesse knew for months on end was pain.

He fought back with all the ferocity of a cornered dog at first, masking his terrified panic with snarling, snapping bravado. Then they shot a dart into his shoulder, and Jesse spent the rest of his days in his cell heavily sedated. Then his captors started to eagerly inject him with what Jesse assumed was a _wonderful_ cocktail of illegal drugs.

Whatever they were using was a hell of a doozy, creating a deep-seated hunger in the pit of Jesse’s stomach. It felt like he was starving even with meals every time he woke up and before he tried to go to sleep. But his growling stomach would always keep him up at night and Jesse would start to teethe on his fingers if it went on for too long. Even more days passed like that, with the other Blackwatch agents no better. Soon, Jesse couldn’t even think straight. At nights he began clawing at his abdomen and face, entirely willing to do anything to end that hunger.

His captors brought in an actual cot for Jesse to sleep in, but started using stronger sedatives on him and began strapping him to the sides of the cot every night. Jesse decided that the cot was actually worse than the mattress. It made him miss his old bed back in Blackwatch.

One night, while he was especially fucked up, Jesse watched through tired eyes as men dragged Hatayama out of his cell, but he never came back.

-+-+-+-

There were four of them after that, and Jesse had long ago lost track of the days. He wanted to believe that Blackwatch would save them from this hell hole, but their chances were dwindling with every second.

What if Gabe thought they were dead? What if there would be no rescue?

Jesse tried not to think about it. A pretty good distraction was the way Addison paced around in the cell besides Jesse and muttered under their breath.

 _Lucky fella,_ Jesse thought.

As far as he could tell, he was the only one that their captors kept cuffed to his bed. And if the others had the strength to actually _walk around_ and _talk,_ then Jesse coldly realized that he was being sedated either more frequently or more heavily than the others.

Jesse pouted. It was so unfair.

-+-+-+-

Days went by before Jesse was so rudely awoken by blaring sirens and flashing red lights. His first assumption was _Blackwatch._ Rescue.

Hope bubbled in Jesse’s chest and he felt himself gaining the strength to stay awake.

The red alarm lights above the cells threw shadows left and right, distorting what little Jesse could make out. Then there was a figure standing in front of Jesse’s cell. Someone he hadn’t seen in days, weeks even.

But it wasn’t Gabe. It wasn’t someone in full armor or with Blackwatch’s insignia on their sleeve.

It was Addison. They had escaped?

Apparently so, because Addison was trying to pick Jesse’s lock with god knows what. Then the guards came. They wrestled Addison to the ground and something strange quickly happened.

Addison bit one of them. Tore clean through the kevlar armor and straight down to the skin beneath. Jesse knew this because blood started gushing from the wounds. Screams were heard, but they were hardly any louder than the alarms.

All of a sudden another guard, clearly panicked, pulled a trigger. Maybe it was an accident. There was the briefest flash of light, and then Addison collapsed to the ground. More guards came in and carried the body out soon after.

Jesse tore his eyes away from the flickering red lights and misshapen shadows. He sniffled, biting his lip as the sting of tears threatened to spill over his cheeks. His only chance of escape at the moment was dead, and he couldn’t help but feel remorse for Addison. After all, they were the only one with a spouse waiting back at home for them.

After that night, it was just Bell and Johnson and Jesse himself.

-+-+-+-

Jesse eventually figured out who their captors were. When they stopped injecting him with drugs and moved onto actual surgery, Jesse concluded that they couldn’t be the drug cartel.

So they were being tortured by Talon.

Jesse figured this out when they used a pair of pliers to rip the canines out of his upper jaw with two sickening cracking sounds. Despite being so sedated he couldn’t even feel his eyelids, Jesse still screamed.

Tears fell freely as blood gushed from the wounds and filled his mouth at a sickeningly fast pace. It took two guards to keep his jaws open as the surgeon drilled into his gums to make space for the two painfully long, thin _things_ being speared into the gaps in his gums.

They didn’t need to inject him with anything else, because Jesse passed out soon after.

When he woke up, his jaw was still exploding with pain. Jesse was still crying, but through the haze he figured out what was fundamentally wrong with him.

There were new muscles and nerves where he didn’t think there were any before, located above his upper jaw. Jesse flinched and on accident, triggered his new muscles. Something sharp and sleek slipped from where his canines should have been. Even the lightest touch of them with his tongue made him flinch and hiss in pain, and the two things slid back into the little pockets where they had come from.

But Jesse got the gist of what they were. Artificial fangs.

-+-+-+-

The pain from the operation kept Jesse awake for two straight days and nights. On the third night, Jesse could hear the whispers of the gossiping night guards as they walked past the holding cells.

“...kid? No way...”

The other guard said something that Jesse couldn’t quite catch. He did hear the words “tests” and  “potential” though. The sound of boots grew louder and louder as the guards approached, and Jesse was startled to realize that he originally heard the guards speak from all the way down the hall.

“Can’t wait to see what they do next.”

“With what I’ve heard, we’ll only be needing one of them soon.”

The guards went on their way, oblivious to the Blackwatch agent that heard every word. It was a cold realization for Jesse, knowing that he’d probably die soon.

A few days later, some important-looking folks in fancy black suits showed up with the same surgeon that ripped out Jesse’s teeth. They spoke in hushed voices and when they stopped in front of Jesse’s cell, one of them looked at the surgeon’s clipboard before nodding in approval.

The fancy bastards and that god damned surgeon walked off to survey Bell and Johnson. There were the distinct words of “saving resources” and “just one” before the guards accompanying the group drew their guns.

Jesse’s blood ran cold when he realized that this little cell in Talon’s base would be his grave. But the guards paid him no mind. Jesse was practically invisible as the two gunshots rang out.

Jesse squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth. Bell and Johnson were gone. Dead. Killed at the hands of Talon after days and days and days of torment.

Jesse was alone now.

-+-+-+-

The stress began breaking through the sedatives. Jesse was alone and afraid and worried that Blackwatch would never find him. His fangs wouldn’t tuck back inside his mouth and the hunger pangs racked through his entire body. Jesse writhed as much as he could on his bed, clenching and unclenching his hands with a painful amount of force. He hadn’t clipped his nails in weeks, and it was easy for them to pierce the skin of palm.

Jesse immediately stopped writhing to watch the little droplets of blood begin to pool around the crescent shaped cuts in his left hand. His hunger roared to life so viciously that it was deafening, and Jesse suddenly began to struggle as if there wasn’t a trace of sedative in his system. The nylon cuff keeping Jesse’s hands secured to his sides tore and very abruptly, Jesse’s left arm was free.

He could try to escape, but he was so very hungry.

It was an animalistic, foreign instinct for Jesse to raise his palm to his face and feast. He didn’t care if it was blood. He didn’t care if it was his _own_ blood. All Jesse wanted in that moment was more.

His body went on autopilot as his mind rapidly gave way to the new instincts lurking beneath. Jesse finally put his fangs to good use for the first time since he got them, ripping into his own flesh with untamed abandon.

By the time the guards came the next morning, there was nothing worth salvaging of Jesse’s left forearm. He had stated his hunger only temporarily, in exchange for his own flesh. That same day Jesse was brought to the surgeon, and he woke up hours later with his left arm tightly bandaged, aching terribly, and amputated below the elbow.

But Jesse had still gotten his fill, and didn’t even fight it when they moved him to a new cell. It was larger and somewhat cleaner, but no less dark and lonely. Jesse spent all of one day in there before the guards took him again.

He was strapped down to a metal table. They pulled an oxygen mask over his mouth and a helmet with intimidating wires extending from it over his head. With that metal helmet on, Jesse couldn’t see or hear anything beyond his pounding heartbeat.

These people slaughtered his team, experimented on him, and took away part of his arm, so what could they do now?

Jesse’s fears were answered when the interior of the helmet buzzed to life, and it felt like lightning began surging through his skull.

  
  
****


	3. Welcome Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter sounds a little bit disjointed, there's just so much I wanted to add before getting to the heavier stuff!

~~****~~It took Blackwatch four months, thirteen days, and roughly twenty-two hours to find the right Talon base after one of Gabe’s best teams had gone missing. By then, the chances of anyone still being alive were slim to none. But that didn’t stop Gabe from wanting to personally tear the building down with his bare hands. And it also didn’t stop him from giving the order that this was not a mission designed to capture. Gabe wanted vengeance.

He personally lead the first assault, sweeping through the complex with ease. Sirens blared, shots were fired, but the Commander of Blackwatch let nothing escape his sight.

Gabe kicked a metal double-door open. He was surprised to find an infirmary of some kind. There was only one person in the room, an unarmed man in surgeon’s scrubs cowering in the corner. Gabe didn’t hesitate to hold the barrel of his shotgun to the man’s temple.

“Approximately five months ago, five Blackwatch agents were captured by Talon. We have reason to suspect they’re being held here, so care to share where they might be?”

The man’s lips flopped open and closed helplessly before he could gather his wits about him.

“They… those were _Overwatch_ agents?”

Gabe snarled and pressed the barrel harder into the man’s forehead. “ _Blackwatch._ Now where are they?”

The man broke out into a cold sweat. “I-I can take you to the survivor. He’s located below-ground, located in-”

“Below-ground,” Gabe cut him off with a cruel smirk, “that’s all I need to know.”

Gabe unapologetically pulled the trigger and ordered his agents to find the underground levels of Talon’s hideout and sweep it clean. He himself planned to investigate, but there was something that gravely bothered him. The man had said _the survivor._ He used the pronoun ‘he’. Both singular, meaning that out of the five of Gabe’s best, only one was alive.

And it was either Hatayama, Johnson, or McCree. And Gabe felt so, so, _so_ guilty for playing favorites, but in the back of his mind he hoped that it was Jesse. He was the youngest of the bunch, and with the most life left to lose.

Half an hour later and a team had found the opening to the complex’s sublevels. A voice crackled to life over the comm, and they sounded worried.

“Commander, we’ve found Agent McCree.”

It was still the first good news that Gabe had heard in months. “Great, grab him and finish sweeping the area so we can get the hell out of here.”

The voice spoke again, this time much more hesitantly. “I don’t think that’s an option, Sir. McCree is unstable.”

Gabe didn’t think that _unstable_ meant barely recognisable.

-+-+-+-

Post-mission, Gabe poured over all the files stolen from Talon. Again.

 **Test Subject:** R005

 **Original Name:** McCree, Jesse

 **Status:** Alive

 **Success of Primary Operation:** 100%

 **Neural-Reconditioning:** 73% Complete

 **Other Bullshit Talon Thought Was Important:** Not Actually That Important

It were the percents that haunted him. They reminded Gabe that he wasn’t there in time. He couldn’t find them before only one of his soldiers remained. And he could only save Jesse when Talon’s neural-reconditioning was just fractions away from being three-fourths completed, and after he had lost an arm. His youngest soldier was left at the hands of the enemy for long enough that hardly any of his original humanity remained.  

As soon as they had rescued what little there was of Jesse, they had to sedate him and move him to one of the highest security cells in Blackwatch’s compound. And for eight days, that’s where Jesse was stuck, refusing to eat and occasionally maiming himself to get a taste of blood. Because that was what fucking Talon wanted him to eat; blood.

They even went as far as to alter Jesse’s genetic makeup. In Gabe’s stolen files, he found a chart of Jesse’s biological composition. His DNA was still primarily human, but there were too many little pieces highlighted in red that didn’t match up with the rest. After evaluating Talon’s notes again and again, Gabe picked out the terms _Canis lupus familiaris, Crotalinae,_ and _Desmodus rotundus._ Dog, rattlesnake, and vampire bat. The largest chunks of Jesse’s alteration were bat.

Talon was really fucked up to hell and back and Gabe’s only satisfaction was knowing that he had pulled the trigger on the surgeon that made Jesse what he was. But back to Talon’s files.

They were originally trying to seek out the perfect living weapon. What Blackwatch found was Jesse, who was the incomplete result of neural reconditioning, chemical injections, and gene splicing. Combined, it left him an insatiable, feral beast instead of an expert killing machine. There was no sign that his current condition would be only temporary and the last three weeks before Gabe and Blackwatch had arrived, Talon had already been feeding Jesse human blood so he’d get a taste for it, and straight from the source too. There was surveillance footage from Jesse’s cell in Talon that showcased just how good at killing people he was.

It was sick.

-+-+-+-

Jesse had lost the battle with the beast long ago. But fifteen days without blood made it weak. Eventually, Jesse started to resurface. His first time regaining control was when he was strapped to a medical table in the Blackwatch medbay. It was only for a few minutes.

But the lights from the infirmary were too bright. They did more than sting his eyes, those lights scorched them. Jesse could just barely squint. The only sound he heard was a heartbeat. There was an odd echo to it too, and it took Jesse longer than he’d like to admit to figure out that he wasn’t alone. Through what little he could see, Jesse saw a man sitting next to him in a black hoodie and beanie.

Of course.

Jesse looked his commander up and down as best he could. Gabe looked the same as always, except there were distinct dark bags under his eyes. His beard was a little longer than his standard look too.

Jesse swallowed. His mouth was drier than sandpaper, but he still managed to speak.

_“What… happened?”_

His Commander didn’t answer immediately, and it was worse than not telling him anything at all. Hesitation from Gabriel Reyes spelled disaster.

“We pulled you from Talon. That’s all that matters now.”

Jesse heard the second heartbeat, Gabe’s, speed up. It was so _loud,_ as if Jesse were listening to it through a stethoscope, except ten times the volume of even that. It echoed in his skull and Jesse began shaking his head from side to side, trying to get the sound to go away.

“Kid? What’s wrong?”

The sound grew even louder, and Jesse hissed. Why was this happening? It shouldn’t be happening.

“Jesse?”

The sound became so loud that Jesse had no choice but to revert back to unconsciousness. He had only one thought before he blacked out again.

_“What am I?”_

-+-+-+-

Jesse woke up again sometime later when he heard people speaking. He floated back into consciousness with the demand that whoever was shouting in his ear keep it down.

Jesse managed to open his eyes. The infirmary was quiet, no one else in sight, but Jesse could still hear voices. He assumed he was going insane until he heard Gabe’s voice.

“He’s not going to be subjected to anything else! Talon’s done enough to him!”

There was a young woman’s voice too. “He’s already improving under my care and I believe his progress will continue.”

Dr. Ziegler; Angie.

She and Gabe were somewhere outside the room. Jesse looked around the medbay, finding the lights somewhat easier to handle than before. The entryway was closed, but Jesse could see the shadow of a tall man through the glass window.

There was a third voice, completely alien to Jesse.

“Talon got a hold of Amélie only a few months earlier, and look at what happened! How do we know it won’t occur again?”

“I found Talon’s database, his reconditioning wasn’t completed. There’s still hope for him.”

Jesse jolted a little in his bed. Talon? Reconditioning?

Bit and pieces of memories floated around in his head. A dark cell, a grimy cot, needles and the pain of electrocution. Jesse couldn’t recall much after the pain.

-+-+-+-

Jesse was finally himself without any signs of the beast after another week or so. Angela explained his new animal DNA, handing him a small mirror. Jesse ignored the bags under his eyes, pale pallor, gaunt features, and disgustingly long hair to sneer at his blood red irises. Angela told him they might be permanent.

Then Jesse realized he only had one arm. He shrieked, demanding to know what happened to him. Angela honestly couldn’t answer that, and Gabe, the only other person with clearance to Talon’s data, was off base. The doctor did her best to soothe him, saying that she had already put in the order for a prosthetic.

But Jesse didn’t want a prosthetic, he wanted his old arm.

Jesse sat in a state of shock for most of that day, trying to remember while cradling the remnants his arm. Talon did something to him. Not physically, but mentally too. Jesse found faint memories of terrible things, but they always faded away before he could really grasp them. Talon had taken his arm, gave him blood red eyes and fangs, but Jesse couldn’t remember how or when. So the true question was, did Jesse leave his memories be or did he dare to dig deeper?

-+-+-+-

Ana finally ariver the next day to visit him.

Jesse wanted to be happy to see her. He even smiled. Then it felt like a hot knife twisting in his gut when she saw his arm. Or what was left of it. Ana ran to his side and fussed so dearly over him, holding him close and not daring to let him go again. A single tear threatened to slip down her cheek, and when Ana cried, Jesse cried too. Angela gave them privacy behind a white, plastic curtain while Ana sat besides Jesse on his bed.

The memory of being hungry came to him. All Ana could do was cradled him closely as he went rigid with horror. Jesse’s realized why he had only one arm. He could only whisper out his tear-choked remorse.

_“...I did it… I did it…”_

Jesse was fully resigned to the fact that he had practically gnawed his own arm off. He truly was a red-eyed, fanged monster hungry for human blood and there Ana was, treating him as if he were human. Jesse wanted her to leave so she wouldn’t have to look at him, but also wanted to stay in her arms for as long as he could.

-+-+-+-

Days later, before Jesse could be discharged from the infirmary, he had to understand that he was still recovering.

His prosthetic would arrive in a matter of weeks. But Jesse still had to go through formal physical therapy with one of Overwatch’s certified physicians at least three times a week, clinical therapy at least once a week, and would not be going on missions until both Gabe and Angela cleared him. And the last requirement was the most humiliating of them all. Until proven mentally sound, Jesse had to wear something equivalent to a house-arrest ankle bracelet. It was a wide band of black metal that monitored his location and he couldn’t leave the base without pre-approval.

To his credit, Gabe had fought tooth and nail for him so that he wouldn’t have to wear the anklet. But the order came from not only Strike Commander Morrison himself, but also the board of Overwatch directors as well. They told him that they didn’t want another Amélie, and Jesse had to ask who she was. He had really missed a lot in the last six months.

-+-+-+-

Jesse hated his mental therapy more than his physical. It never seemed to help, though his first session was the worst. It started with basic questions that quickly became a bitter pill to swallow.

“What is your name?”

“Jesse McCree.”

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“Actually, your birthday passed this August. How old are you now?”

Jesse swallowed. He had missed his own birthday. “Twenty, then.”

Jesse’s arm ached and yet most of his memories still refused to unbury themselves. His teeth hurt and he was still hungry. Happy fucking birthday to him.

-+-+-+-

Jesse’s reintegration back into Blackwatch, or at least the rest of the base, was unkind to him. His fangs were a pain, both figuratively and literally. They still got sore from time to time and popped out as soon as Jesse stopped consciously thinking about them. His red eyes were an anomaly too. The people who he’d once known now skirted around him, disdainful of another potential sleeper agent and subtly disgusted by his inhuman features.

There were whispers of _“not human”, “monster”,_ and _“mole”_ that followed him, clinging to his back like his shadow. And he didn’t fight it. He didn’t feel like he had the right to do so when he wasn’t human or machine, or even anything in between.

So Jesse went back to survivor mode from his days in Deadlock. He went to the mess hall before the lunch rush and scurried out before anyone would have to see him. He often ate alone, sometimes in his room, sometimes in the little pockets in the base. The roof was often ideal when the weather was right, as long as he stayed out of sight from below and away from the cameras. Bright lights still hurt his eyes and wearing sunglasses didn’t often help his headaches. He still couldn’t handle the volume of having to listen to more than one or two voices at a time, so Jesse stopped trying to talk to anyone asides from his therapist once a week.

Although Gabe and Ana still did their damndest to constantly pester him about how he was feeling, it hurt even more to see the pity in their eyes. Jesse could tell that Gabe was still beating himself up over what happened, and Jesse told him not to worry.

He was also purposely avoided Fareeha so she wouldn’t have to see him. If Ana almost cried, Jesse didn't have the guts to face Fareeha.

It soon became second-nature for Jesse’s lips to stay sealed. His fangs couldn’t slip out that way and it minimized talking.

After a week, Jesse got his new prosthetic. It fit like a glove and worked well enough, so Jesse couldn’t complain. It also made physical therapy, and dressing himself, much easier. But when his sessions became more intensive, Jesse always felt tired and lightheaded afterward. The physicians constantly told him that his body was still readjusting. It was nothing to worry about, even with Gabe and Ana telling him that he should go to the infirmary as soon as he felt like it was too much.

Then, after barely another week, Jesse threw up his first meal. It was dinner, and his stomach wouldn’t stop churning. Jesse had eaten all of three bites of his sandwich when he had to run to the nearest bathroom. He couldn’t eat any more after that. He thought it was a fluke, until the next night, he threw up the chicken soup that he hoped would go down easier. Then Jesse’s fatigue started to increase. He was working as hard as he could, but wasn’t gaining back muscle mass. Or any mass at all. He was _losing_ weight, actually. And there was a scarily familiar, almost painful hunger that never left.

Jesse knew that this wasn’t good, but Gabe was out on a mission, and then had a series of meetings with the Strike Commander and the other higher-ups. Ana had her own work too, so Jesse had no one to give him the strength to call attention to himself.

It was the tail-end of his first month out of the infirmary, and Jesse physically couldn’t get out of bed. His limbs felt like lead and he skipped out on more PT and therapy sessions than he could count. He didn’t even try to eat at this point, despite the burning hunger in his stomach, and just stayed locked inside his room in the calming darkness.

Eventually someone’s boots thudded heavily in the hallway and stopped outside his door. Jesse thought that the pounding on the door was just his heartbeat. It sometimes sounded like that.

Then a familiar gruff voice was calling his name. Jesse just stared at his door. He wanted to answer to get that sound to stop, he really did, but his body wouldn’t let him. His mouth was dry and his mind felt muddled.

Jesse let his eyes closed, feeling as if he were being enveloped in a cold darkness as his door was literally kicked open. Light flooded in, blinding him temporarily. Then there was a very rude voice calling his name, and rough hands shaking his shoulders. Jesse didn’t respond to any of it though, only wanting to sleep.

Then there was a violent, painful stinging in his cheek. Jesse’s eyes opened as far as they could and blinked away his tiredness. Gabe was kneeling besides his bed, staring at him with concern, hand still raised after slapping Jesse. Maybe there was even fear in his eyes, if the Commander was even capable of feeling such a thing. Jesse saw his lips move, but any sound that came out sounded muffled and strained. He watched as Gabe raised a finger to the comm still in his ear from his mission, and his lips moved yet again.

Jesse registered two arms scooping him up from beneath his knees and upper back, but did nothing to revolt. He was being carried, blanket and all, by _Gabe_ of all people off to somewhere. He didn’t think anyone saw them or Gabe doing something so menial on the way to a place with painfully bright lights. There were medics ready to attend to him by the time Gabe dropped him on an infirmary bed.

The lights were too overstimulating, as always. Jesse kept his eyes squeezed shut and passed out again.

 


	4. Starved For Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY HOWDY who's ready for some good old fashioned care and understanding? 
> 
> (Also, I'm sorry if there are any spelling or grammar errors.)

Jesse was out cold with an IV in his left forearm and a  nasogastric tube stuck through his nose to feed nutrients directly to his stomach. Gabe sat by his bedside, deeply disturbed by the news he had just received.

Jesse was close to dying of  _ starvation.  _

And it was painfully hard to admit, but Jesse certainly looked the part. His skin was sickly pale, and Gabe could make out the veins beneath his paper-thin skin. And Jesse was losing weight faster than Gabe had realized. The Blackwatch Commander ran a hand over his face. This was his fault.

He should’ve paid closer attention. He should’ve realized that something was fundamentally wrong. He should’ve refused the damned meeting that Jack requested, because as soon as Gabe got back, he heard that Jesse hadn’t been seen for fucking  _ days.  _ And look at him now; starving, and Gabe had no idea as to why. Talon’s files had said nothing about this. Though maybe their data was incomplete. But Blackwatch should’ve run more extensive tests when they first found Jesse. Perhaps the only thing stopping them was how Jesse was so broken and unresponsive in the beginning; Gabe feared a another needle would kill him. So he went soft and risked letting Jesse’s health slide for the sake of giving him breathing room. And this was the price he paid.

A disaster born from the purest intention.

Dr. Ziegler, having spent the most time with Jesse, was called in as soon as he was dumped on an infirmary bed. She arrived in a tizzy half an hour later, anxious to see her patient’s condition. She then promptly kicked Gabe out of her infirmary to run several tests in private. 

It wasn't easy leaving. Gabe had to go back to his office and pretend that his  protégé , and Talon’s sole survivor, wasn’t currently dying of malnutrition. The papers on his desk taunted him, seemingly asking who was more important, Jesse or his work?

Needless to say, Gabe didn’t get much sleep that night either. He only hoped that Jesse was getting better rest than him. 

-+-+-+-

When Jesse opened his eyes, he thought he was dead. There were bright lights all around him, he felt strangely weightless, and an  _ angel _ hovered over him with a shiny golden halo over her head. Jesse blinked several times to get the blurriness out of his eyes. Even better than any angel, Angie was standing over him. The light had naturally formed a halo across her blonde hair. 

Jesse let his head loll to the side. There was an empty cot next to him. He was in the infirmary. Again. Jesse was getting really sick of this place. 

There was a feather-light touch on his arm. “How do you feel, Jesse?”

It put considerable strain on him to simply _ speak, _ “Like shit... What happened this time?”

There was no smile on Angie’s lips. No joy in her eyes that could put Jesse at ease. At this moment, she was only his doctor, and he felt his hollow gut drop to the floor. 

“It’s been fifty hours since you were admitted to the infirmary, Jesse. You nearly died of malnutrition. While I've done my best to stabilized you, there are several things you need to know.”

Jesse unintentionally started gripping the railings of his bed. 

-+-+-+-

Gabe was at the infirmary at seven in the morning two days after leaving Jesse in the infirmary because Angela had strongly requested to see him. He cut right to the chase. 

“What’s wrong with him?”

The doctor clutched a tablet to her chest almost protectively, as if she didn’t want to be the one to tell Gabe the news.

“The results have come back. Complete diagnostics revealed that Jesse’s metabolic rate has increased considerably, but this is not the reason why he is suffering of malnutrition.”

Gabe folded his arms across his chest. “Then what is?”

Angela sighed. “Talon has considerably altered his genetic makeup, Sir.”

Gabe rolled his eyes impatiently. “I know this already. So what’s really wrong with him?”

Angela seemed to silently plead with Gabe to understand her. But she wordlessly handed over the tablet anyway. It showed Jesse’s medical file, along with his complete biological composition, and there were lots of little portions of his DNA highlighted in red. It was foreign to Overwatch’s medical technology, but outside scientific analysis revealed inhuman characteristics.

Gabe scrolled through the analysis brimming with medical terms he didn’t recognise. He did happen to see  _ Desmodus rotundus,  _ the scientific name for the common vampire bat. 

Gabe handed back the tablet and demanded, “How does all this affect Jesse?”

“The largest part of his altered genetic makeup is most similar to that of vampire bats, and Jesse’s body has developed a secondary diet as a result of it.”

The doctor looked uncharacteristically grave. “Jesse’s body needs to regularly consume blood to survive.”

Gabe felt a cold, shameful shiver of revulsion shimmy down his spine. He couldn’t help it.

“Sir, I called you here now because I believe that you need to talk to Jesse. I've done what I can but he won’t listen to me.”

Gabe sighed and cast a quick glance through the glass infirmary doors, wondering how Jesse was taking the news. 

-+-+-+-

While he was recovering and unconscious for most of the time, Jesse almost didn’t mind the infirmary. Now he hated it. It was too bright and cold and the sharp smell of disinfectant burned his nose and made his eyes water. Angela pulled a white plastic curtain around his bed, giving him some privacy, but Jesse only felt like he was trapped inside a shrinking box. 

Angela had given him the news and now he had curled in on himself, lying pathetically on his side.

Jesse really was something else. Fangs, red eyes, a thirst for blood. He might as well dye his hair black and call himself Dracula. 

Jesse chuckled coldly. How long will it take for Blackwatch to cast him out? He wasn’t human, didn’t look human, and wasn’t even an Omnic. And when he was discharged from Blackwatch, there would be nowhere for him to go. Where would he be welcomed?

Jesse didn’t bother to make himself dignified when his curtain was pulled back. Jesse stared at the torso of his commander. The curtain was pulled back into place without a word. 

“Jesse?”

Here it comes. Jesse was going to get the boot. 

“Jesse?”

He said nothing. Gabe sighed tiredly and sat down on the edge of Jesse’s bed. 

“Dr. Ziegler told you?”

A simple nod up and down was all Gabe got. 

“We’re going to find a solution, Jesse. I know you’re hungry.”

_ Hungry  _ was putting it lightly. But memories told Jesse that human blood was a dangerous thing to consume. It would make the beast come back. 

It was silent for a while, and based on Gabe’s increased heartbeat, Jesse could tell that he was debating with himself. 

At last he very nearly begged, “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were hungry?”

Jesse’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to say he was sorry, that he really did want help, but that would be a partial lie. 

“Too hard.”

Gabe exhaled slowly. He didn’t seem to know what to say. Jesse felt guilty, knowing he was making his Commander struggle.

“Gabe?”

It wasn’t often that Jesse dared to refer to his CO by his first name, and he’d probably get Gabe’s dirtiest glare if it were any other scenario. 

“Yes?”

Jesse practiced the way he wanted to tell Gabe inside his head. 

“I can’t have human blood. It's too dangerous.”

Jesse kept his eyes on Gabe’s shoulder, purposely not looking at any potential pity or disgust on his Commander’s face.

“I know, Jesse. But we’re going to find a solution fast, do you understand me?”

Jesse nodded a hollow, apathetic nod. He might still be discharged from Blackwatch, he might still die, but it was nice to see that Gabe cared. 

-+-+-+-

The next morning, Jesse felt something tickling his arm. He stirred groggily, finding someone sitting besides his bed, fast asleep. Her hair spilled over her shoulders and onto Jesse’s arm. 

Fareeha.

Jesse nearly scrambled to sit up, not minding how the rapid action made his heart painfully hammer in his chest. He scooted away as far as he could from the girl, now fifteen years old. But when did she get here? Who let her in this early?

Jesse looked around, but the plastic curtains hid everything from him, and him from everyone. 

Fareeha made a sound and began to wake up. Jesse stared in blatant horror as the girl he once babysat saw him in all of his shame. Fareeha rubbed her eyes, blinking in the light. The she saw that he was awake.

Fareeha’s eyes widened with excitement.

“Jesse!”

She crawled on top of the bed to hug him. He was stiff and tense in her embrace, not even daring to push her away. 

“I was so worried! They wouldn’t let anyone see you when you first got back and I couldn’t find you afterwards.”

She pulled away, finally seeing the fear on his face. 

“Jesse? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

She was so genuinely caring. It was as if nothing happened in the last seven months. But how could she stare at his crimson eyes and treat him as if he were the same?

Fareeha hesitantly backed off his bed. “Jesse? Should I get a medic?”

More people would only make the situation worse. Jesse found it in himself to shake his head. 

“Why are you here?”

It might’ve come off a little more standoffish than Jesse intended, and Fareeha’s shoulders sank a little.  

“My mother told me you were readmitted to the infirmary. I snuck in so I could see you. I’ve already been here for two hours.”

Jesse wanted to shrink in on himself. He never wanted Fareeha to see him like this, so sickly and weak. 

Fareeha backed away slowly, asking, “Do you… want me to leave?” 

Now they both sounded pathetic. Fareeha was suddenly so uncertain and it was Jesse’s fault that she thought she had done something wrong. She was about to get up when Jesse reached over and took her hand. He wasn’t strong enough to keep a good grip, but Fareeha stood still. 

“No. I’m sorry.”

Fareeha stared at him, making sure it was okay before she sat down besides his bed again. She prompted Jesse to slowly sink back down, and he didn’t realize how much energy it took for him to sit up without adrenaline. 

“You aren’t…  _ bothered _ by me?”

Fareeha shook her head. “I know you too well to ever be disturbed by anything you do.”

She gently took Jesse’s right hand and patted it. Sometimes she was too much like Ana.

“And I heard my mother and Dr. Ziegler talking last night. I think they have a solution to your problem.”

The  _ problem, _ Jesse assumed, was the fact that he was basically starving. So that begged the question, how much did Fareeha know exactly?

“Fareeha?” Jesse bit his lip, wondering if he really wanted to know the answer, “How much did they tell you? What did you hear about me?”

The smile on her face faded. She gave Jesse’s hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“Rumors mostly. I heard stories about a mole, but never thought that it was you. Then my mother told me about how you were brought back to the med-bay a few days ago. She warned me that you had changed.”

Jesse sighed and pulled his hand away. He wanted to go back to that previous topic. 

“I know. But what’s this solution ya’ve heard about?”

Fareeha brightened up a little bit, bringing some warmth to the sterile white light of the medbay. She leaned in close, buzzing with excitement.

“Animal blood.”

Jesse immediately balked at the idea. “Come again?” 

Fareeha explained, “Dr. Ziegler said that you were constructed to consume human blood, but that’s also not an option. My mother suggested animal blood. People in other cultures already consume it, and it may be safer substitute for you.”

Jesse was partially proud of Fareeha’s ability to eavesdrop. But this was something monumental for him. A substitute. Something he could have that might not bring the beast back. 

It was hoping against odds, but Jesse was ready to roll the dice. 

He asked Fareeha to stay with him, and she was happy to oblige even when Ana came to chew her out for sneaking into the infirmary so early in the morning.

-+-+-+-

Jesse held the cup with unsteady hands. It was filled with only five ounces of cleaned blood taken from a cow. Jesse had no idea how Blackwatch got a hold of it so fast, but he had a feeling that Gabe had something to do with it. 

In accordance with mandatory safety precautions, Jesse had been moved to a high security holding cell. The door was barred and locked, with Gabe, Ana, and Angela on the other side of the bullet proof, one-way glass. At this point, it was even a struggle for him to bring the cup to his lips, but Jesse did it and he drank. 

The blood tasted kind of disgusting. It was cold and bitter and Jesse gagged a little bit on it. But he downed it without much fuss and set the empty cup on the metal table in front of him. 

Then he waited. Jesse squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his heart speed up. He was afraid that this was a mistake and the beast would rear it’s ugly head again. But minutes passes, and Jesse forced himself to breathe. He slowly relaxed and opened his eyes again. The drap holding cell seemed so much less daunting. The lights didn’t seem as harsh as before.

But even better, Jesse felt almost  _ full. _ The hunger that consumed him for weeks on end was ebbing away, and after only five ounces of animal blood. When the hunger dulled away to nothing more than a bothersome craving, and nothing else happened for another five minutes, Jesse picked up the comm link that sat on the table. 

“I think it worked.”

Jesse could practically hear the smile on Gabe’s face. 

“Good. We’re moving you to the medbay for examination.”

“Well done,  _ Habibti.” _

Jesse smiled. “It was your idea, Ana.”

“I know.”

Jesse laughed, genuinely happy as Gabe unlocked the door.

In one of the preemptively evacuated wings of the infirmary, Angela proved that there was no significant change in Jesse’s brain waves or neural activity. If he stuck to a consistent, balanced diet of normal food and blood, then he’d be as healthy as he was before Talon. If Jesse could help it, then the beast would never come back.

 


	5. Back In Black(watch)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for blood/very mild gore (the reason why McCree needs sunblock in Red-Eyed Deadeye), anxiety, and choppy editing.

It had been a little over two weeks since Jesse first consumed animal blood. He was now required to consume a regular dosage of eight ounces a week, and he was regaining weight and muscle mass at a stunning rate. His physical therapy and training were going great too. And when his BMI hit 19.0 and he was no longer considered underweight, or even in the danger of rapid weight loss, Jesse got treated to _tres leches_ cakes, even if they were store bought. It also turned out that Gabe had not once thought of discharging him from Blackwatch, and that took the world off of Jesse's shoulders.

But as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.

When Jesse was cleared to have the damned ankle bracelet removed and deemed fit to return to active duty, his first few missions were hell. The first action Jesse saw in close to a year was on a simple recon mission in China. Gabe was leading the mission, and it was considered strange for the Commander to go on such a low-profile job. Jesse suspected that Gabe was joining the mission because of him.

Long story short, their cover was blown almost immediately.  

A team was assigned to Jesse, or he was assigned to a team. Either way, Jesse wasn’t supposed to get separated from them, but gunshots had forced them to split up. He dove for cover behind a stack of insulated crates when it hit him.

This was so much like _that_ mission. This was too much like when Talon took him. Jesse felt his heartbeat thundering in his chest and took a knee. It wasn’t just adrenaline. It was fear beyond the apprehension of gunshots.

Bullets that strayed too close made him flinch. He had his gun in a vice grip, but his hands were shaking. His knuckles were white. He couldn’t reload fast enough. Sweat beaded on his forehead as nausea took over his stomach. What was happening? Nothing like this happened in the simulations or training.

Jesse’s incomplete mental reconditioning left much of his memory foggy, but something in him kept fearing some kind of debilitating sound or tool, something that Talon could use against him. The gunshots around him soon competed with the roaring of Jesse’s heart. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that he was wasting time. Gabe and the team needed him. He had to pull himself together. But everything felt so far away and yet far too close at once.

There was a familiar pressure in Jesse’s upper jaw. His fangs slipped out without his consent. He began breathing heavily. He was starting to feel lightheaded and numb. Jesse knew that the longer he spent hiding there, the more dangerous the situation grew for everyone. So why couldn’t he get up?

Something exploded too close for comfort and Jesse jumped at the sound, so much louder than before his sensory enhancement.

_“MCCREE. Where are you?”_

The Commander. Gabe’s voice on the comm link jarred Jesse down to his core and attempted to wrestle down his thundering heart. But Gabe didn’t sound so much angry than alarmed. Worried, even.

It was automatic for Jesse to raise his finger to his ear.

“...I… I’m here, Boss. I’m pinned on the South side.”

Jesse wasn’t even sure if Gabe could hear him. Everything was too loud and he couldn’t work up his voice to be as strong as he’d like.

It was pathetic.

The gunshots stopped for a moment, and Jesse took the opportunity to peer over the side of the crate. He fired almost blindly, knowing that probability-wise, he’d most likely hit _someone._

Someone grabbed him from behind. Jesse lashed out instinctively, stepping on the foot behind his and slamming his metal elbow into a face. His assailant crumbled to the ground, and Jesse kicked him in the head, not feeling up to shooting him while the poor bastard was down.

Something itched in his nose and his fangs suddenly ached. Jesse stared down at the man, who was bleeding from his nose and from a gash across his cheek. Jesse looked down at himself. Flecks of human blood stained his sleeve. It was so warm and sweet-smelling. So potent and plentiful in the midst of battle.

It was so utterly tantalizing.

Jesse was frozen where he stood, breathing in and out while staring at the unconscious, bleeding man. He knew he really, really, _really_ shouldn’t, but instincts were instincts and Jesse suddenly felt quite hungry.

“Jesse!”

A hand grabbed his arm, and Jesse lashed out once again. Gabe dodged his punch and pulled Jesse down for safer cover. The two of them knelt obscured by the stack of crates while chaos raged around them.

Gabe hissed, “I told you to stick with your team.”

Jesse felt a cold wave of shame roll over him, but he kept his eyes on his Commander.

“We… I got separated.”

Gabe sighed. “I can tell. What happened here?”

He gestured to the man lying on the floor and Jesse shrugged. “He caught me by surprise.”

Gabe made a disapproving grumbling sound.

“And your teeth?”

He never called them fangs, Jesse noted. But his fangs were still out and about and Jesse had a feeling that Gabe knew why. He was just waiting for confirmation.

“I lost control, Sir.”

Gabe hummed, shot someone with a sniper rifle trying to hit them from above, and turned back to Jesse.

“I need you to focus on the here and now, Jesse. This mission might just be salvageable with you.”

Jesse swallowed dryly, and nodded. He still felt like nothing was real, not even him. The only truly solid thing in the vicinity was Gabe, who was like a beacon to the moth that was Jesse. So where Gabe went, Jesse would follow.

The mission turned out alright when Jesse began numbly shooting wherever his commanding officer indicated. Once the fighting was over, Jesse’s team flocked to him. Most of them nodded in silent, begrudging apology. But the team leader, who once said she had a brother Jesse’s age, apologized profusely for allowing them to get separated on Jesse’s first mission back.

Jesse brushed them off, still feeling shaky despite his booming heart. As soon as they had returned to the base, there was a firm hand on Jesse’s shoulder and he flinched.

It was only Gabe.

“Follow me, McCree.”

They were still within earshot of the others, and Jesse understood why Gabe didn’t play favorites by calling him Jesse.

-+-+-+-

Jesse had been in Gabe’s private office plenty of times before, mostly after getting into fights with other recruits years before, but usually never felt very intimidated. A lot of things were different now.

He sat on the edge of his chair across from Gabe, fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt. Gabe had his hands folded neatly together on top of his desk, staring at Jesse intently. He didn’t _look_ angry, but Gabe was Gabe, and looks could be deceiving.

“So, Jesse. What happened?”

Jesse winced internally. “I uh, don’ understand, Sir.”

Gabe didn’t believe him for a second, but he still wasn’t angry.

“First mission back on your feet. I get that it can be rough, Jesse, especially after everything you’ve gone through.”

Gabe leaned forward, but not in a way like he would during an interrogation. It seemed more like he wanted to better hear anything Jesse had to say.

“But I saw you. You froze, didn’t you? Felt scared, like the world was collapsing on top of you, right?”

Jesse stared at Gabe like a deer caught in the headlights. He nodded silently.

Gabe sighed and leaned back in his chair. He looked at Jesse with eyes full of the same type of pity as when Jesse was a teenager caught running with Deadlock.

“You probably had a panic attack, Jesse.”

Jesse felt a shiver crawl down his spine. He’s heard of panic attacks before. Soldiers got them from combat, from nearly dying. But Jesse survived, didn’t he?

“But… I felt fine before. It… I just didn’t think it’d happen right then and there.”

Jesse almost made it sound like an apology. He gripped the hem of his shirt tightly. Wasn’t he supposed to be getting better? He had his therapy and all that. Wasn’t the worst behind him?

Neither of them were the best in emotional communication, but at least Gabe was trying.

“Look, I’m not mad. The mission succeeded in the end. But you need to understand that PTSD and anxiety happens, and it’s not anything to be ashamed of. It was only your first mission back, it went wrong, and as Commander, I take responsibility for it. What’s important is that you don’t blame yourself, and that you agree to get help. Do you understand me, Jesse?”

Kindness was something that Jesse had experienced during his time in Blackwatch, but nothing matched up to this forgiveness and compassion from Commander Gabriel Reyes. He almost wanted to cry. Things were looking so well after such a long time suffering either alone or in silence, and then everything fell apart only hours earlier. But Jesse wanted to get better, and he never wanted to feel as terrified and anxious as he did before.

He felt like he was worlds away when he said yes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> even tho I have anxiety myself, if Jesse's anxiety attack seems unrealistic in any major way PLEASE tell me


	6. Time Flies By

Jesse’s year after that his first panic attack was rough, to say the least.

Some days early on he couldn’t get out of bed. He dreaded what the day would hold and more often than not, Fareeha would bring him breakfast instead of him risking the mess hall. Sometimes, she’d steal his hat, bandana, or even Peacekeeper to give him a reason to get out of bed. Ana and Gabe were his fallback, people he could go to when things became too much. Ana would make him tea while Gabe provided companionable silence when Jesse got sensory overload and headaches.

The rumors still followed him, and they worsened on missions. People that Jesse were once fond of saw his fangs, heard he was captured by Talon, and became ready to pull the trigger on him the moment he stepped out of line. People _really_ did not want another Amélie.

But the constant threat of being turned on did nothing for Jesse’s anxiety. He worked his ass off from morning to night training and accomplishing missions but his fangs were still the deal breaker.

-+-+-+-

One mission to Mexico was over a hundred degrees. The sun beat down on Jesse in a way he had never felt before. His old home in New Mexico was hot, but this was unbearable, even with his hat to shield his eyes. By the end of the mission, Jesse was a sweating, shaking mess who felt like someone doused him in gasoline and lit him on fire. When he had reached Blackwatch’s safehouse, he made a beeline for the bathroom. His skin was red, peeling, and a scarily blistered.

Jesse leaned close to the mirror, not believing how badly he’d been burnt when he gingerly touched his cheek. Before his very eyes, Jesse had the horrifying misfortune of witnessing his skin practically _falling_ off. Layers and layers peeled away at the lightest of touches and blisters began to bleed. Jesse kept his lips sealed tight as he flung himself into a near-blind panic in search for a towel. Once he found one, the coarse fibers did nothing to ease the pain, but they soaked up the blood well enough. Jesse ran from the bathroom to the team medic, who was sent into a day-long tizzy trying to treat him.

Weeks later, Jesse’s skin had fully healed and he was going to be shipped out to India. Before he left, Gabe tossed him a bottle of specially formulated SPF One-Hundred sunblock. The worst that happened were some damn ugly tan lines around Jesse’s forearm and neck.

-+-+-+-

After seven months, Jesse was getting back into the swing of things. Teammates got used to him again. Some of them, anyways. Jesse went a whole month without a serious panic attack, although being alone on missions still made him jumpy. His first “solo” job since returning was simply to act as lookout during one of Gabe’s own missions. Nothing happened, nothing that Jesse could prevent anyways, but Gabe still patted him on the back afterward.

Things got a little better after that. New recruits came flowing in, some real colorful folks like a time-traveling pilot, a cyborg ninja, and an actual gorilla. Jesse welcomed them in, and they separated themselves from their older counterparts by welcoming Jesse in return.

One day, when Jesse found himself heading up to eat on the roof for old times sake, except that there was someone already there. The cyborg was sitting alone, faceplate removed, chewing slowly on his sandwich. Jesse plopped down besides him and started making small talk. The cyborg, Genji, was mostly unresponsive. They continued to meet occasionally on the roof until one day Genji snapped at him.

“You do not need to patronize me by pretending I am normal! I am not human nor Omnic, and am not welcomed in either community!”

Jesse raised an eyebrow at him and waved his water bottle at the cyborg nonchalantly.

“No shit, neither am I.”

Genji almost fell off the roof when Jesse showed him his fangs. But he didn’t reject him. They were outcasts together, even if Genji did call Jesse Dracula from time to time.

Fareeha and Lena were fast friends, so naturally Jesse got a taste of her too. She was bubbly and wild, always on the move like a tumbleweed in the breeze. Eventually, it turned out that she could actually be a real devil when she wanted to. Lena and Fareeha once glitter-bombed him to make him sparkle like an old-fashioned vampire. Then they had to gall to throw garlic cloves at him when he got mad.

Needless to say, Jesse felt no remorse when he purchased two of his own glitter-bombs online.

-+-+-+-

More months had passed after Jesse had built up his own, new family. He eventually realized he was no longer an outsider, nor was he alone, and nor was his anxiety as bad as before when his twenty-first birthday rolled around. There was a surprise party for him in one of the conference rooms in the Watchpoint. No bright lights or overly loud music, but festive streamers were hung from the ceiling and a hand-written _‘Happy Birthday’_ banner in Fareeha’s scrawl hung over the door. Ana was there, and her plus one was _Reinhardt Wilhelm,_ who Jesse would’ve teased her about if she was anyone else.

Fareeha and Angie was there, and Lena zipped up behind Jesse to put a paper party hat on top of his stetson. Genji and Winston were there, and Gabe arrived late from one of his “meetings” with Jack. Their screaming matches could be heard halfway around the world with how rough things were between those two, but Gabe showed up as if nothing was wrong.

After Jesse blew out his candles, he realized that he’d never be able to make _everyone_ happy. He wasn’t fully human, probably would never be, but that was okay. HE might've been different, but everyone in this room came to celebrate who he was, and Jesse felt like he deserved to celebrate himself too.

-+-+-+-

His health and mental stability made great strides over the years, even when things started to go south for everyone else. Things outside of Jesse’s control forced him to witness as each and every one of the people around him left. Ana went on a mission one day with Jack, and didn’t come back. Genji left on his own terms without so much as a goodbye in order to do some soul searching. Fareeha was getting ready to join the Egyptian military, though Jesse didn’t worry about her. She was strong like her mother, and she’d do great things in the future.

Worst of all was Gabe, who was slowly losing himself to his hatred of Jack. The Blackwatch Commander was slipping down into a pit of jealous vengeance that not even Jesse could pull him out of. Any appeal to reason fell on deaf ears and vicious snarls ordering Jesse to shut up about things he didn’t truly understand.

Jesse thought that if Gabe got it all out of his system, then he’d cool down and the restlessness that spread throughout the Watchpoint would follow. So he listened to the furious arguments from across the base and let Gabe’s eyes hardened with cold fury. Except, that fury never left.

Then one day, Gabe called him to his office.

“I need to know who you’re ready to side with, Jesse.”

Jesse clutched his fists silently. “I don’ understand, Boss. What are ya talkin’ about?”

“I’m planning big things for Blackwatch and I need all the support I could get.”

Jesse swallowed dryly after that exchange, telling Gabe empty words about how _of course,_ Jesse would always stand by Gabe’s side. Jesse quickly wriggled his way out of the situation, but his words were still partially true. Jesse owed his life and more to Gabe, but he just couldn’t mentally take Blackwatch any longer.

Things beyond even what he could see were happening. Blackwatch agents and Overwatch agents were going toe to toe inside the Watchpoints more often than ever before. The fights never escalated to much, but Gabe wasn’t doing anything to stop them.

So Jesse approached the last few people he was closest too.

“People need healing, Jesse. Overwatch is still the best way for me to reach those people.” Angie was confident in her position in Overwatch.

“I have research left to do. And where else would I be as welcomed?” Winston wouldn’t abandon his lab.

“The world needs heroes, Jesse, especially in times like these.” Lena wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

So Jesse was alone. But that was fine; he’d gotten used to going solo over the years. Acting as lookout, fighting one-on-one, and splitting up on stealth missions taught him a lot. So as soon as he was sure that his remaining friends were firm in their desire to stay, Jesse packed up and left after submitting a formal letter of resignation.

For weeks, Jesse was constantly looking over his shoulder, wondering if he made the wrong choice.

Then the Swiss Explosion happened, and the most Jesse could do was pay his respects and leave a pack of cigars on Gabe's grave. Only after the explosion, did Jesse know that there was no going back. All he could do was move forwards. Everyone would have wanted him to.

-+-+-+-

Years passed and Jesse had changed.

His alias was his last name alone. Nostalgia and guilt haunted him for nearly a decade while he became a bounty hunter with a _very_ handsome price of his own over his head.

But when McCree got wind of the recall, he hopped on the first hypertrain to the east coast, then stowed away on a ship heading to Spain. He was ecstatic to see everyone he dropped ties with years ago. Even if he couldn’t save Gabe, McCree was willing to put his life on the line for this new Overwatch to make amends and finally settle previous crimes and cowardice.

What McCree absolutely did _not_ expect was the most handsome man he’d ever seen in his entire life; Genji’s brother, the fratricide-committing Hanzo Shimada. And holy hell, was Hanzo a looker. He was McCree’s age, but they were quite different. While McCree himself was rough around the edges with a _serape_ riddled with holes and a scruffy beard, Hanzo had a chiseled chest, crisp onyx eyes, long, dark hair and a neatly groomed beard. Plus, Hanzo had awing stamina, flexibility, and unbelievable aim to boot.

And even though Hanzo was too harsh on himself most of the time, he still quite perceptive of others; McCree was honestly impressed with how quickly Hanzo picked up on his condition.

And once he got a taste of the cunning, quick-footed archer, McCree was all too ready to attempt to win Hanzo's favor.


End file.
